


In the Eye of the Beholder

by ufp13



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-11-08
Updated: 2008-11-08
Packaged: 2017-10-29 05:08:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/316155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ufp13/pseuds/ufp13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What you see depends on the way look at it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Eye of the Beholder

Thin. Too thin. She couldn’t remember ever having weighed that little. The ribs were too prominent under the skin, which wasn’t as rosy as it used to be, either. It was still soft but hung at, instead of moulding itself around, her curves. She snorted. Which curves? All edges, now, showing her age, except for those few roundings that marked her illness, her impending death. Her hands ran over her bald head before cupping her breasts rather hard in frustration, in anger. She hissed as pain shot through her nerves, an inside reminder of what she saw on the outside. Straight into her mirror image’s eyes she stared. If looks could have killed, she would just have committed suicide. Her eyes the only things that weren’t pale – yet. They would lose their fire along the way before they would fall shut for all eternity. As for the rest of her face, she didn’t even dare look closely. Her beauty lost, chased out of her body in the hope to keep the basic form alive for a short time longer. Nothing desirable, nothing loveable left of her former body. Disgusted by her own image, she closed her eyes, tears trailing over her cavernous cheeks. Silently, she mourned but had retreated too far into herself to notice him standing in the hatch, watching her carefully with worry.

He was well aware that she had lost the love for herself as the treatment went on, but the open hate he had seen in her glare had shocked him. Yes, the poison had changed her, and not necessarily for the better, however this was still her – the only fact that mattered to him. He loved her. End of story. He didn’t care whether she had green spots, gained too much weight – or lost it, for that matter. She was alive, she was with him – that was all he needed to know. If he could only make her accept this, make her think alike, make the hate she harboured for herself disappear. It saddened him to find this expression on her dear face. He had to get her to see what he saw when he looked at her – the body that fitted against him at night, that reacted to his touch in a way which never ceased to amaze him, that housed a great mind with a wicked humour, that belonged to the woman who held his heart in a love which went deeper than physical attraction, beyond appearance. Slowly but surely, he stepped forward, closer to her. She started when he put his hands on her hips, slid them over her stomach, pulled her back against his chest in an embrace.

“Bill?”

He kissed her skull. “Hello, love.” His voice was soft, oozing affection like his eyes that had met hers in the mirror.

She couldn’t hold his gaze for long, though, couldn’t bear his emotions so contrary to her own. “How long have you been here?”

“A while.” He hugged her closer as she tried to extract herself from his embrace, suddenly feeling a nakedness beyond the state of undress. “No,” he breathed next to her ear.

With a sigh, she closed her eyes, her body tense. ”Let me go.” Her tone was on the edge to begging.

“No. Please, let me guide you,” he whispered against her neck.

She hung her head, not possessing the energy to resist him, to fight for her point. One of his hands came up to her chin, guiding it upward again. Even though she didn’t offer any resistance, she kept her eyes shut, refusing to face the image in the mirror again.

“Laura, open your eyes.”

She shook her head ‘no’.

“Please, open your eyes and focus on me.”

Taking a deep breath, she did as he had asked, unable to withstand this soft, pleading tone of his voice. She tried to shoot daggers at him with her eyes but gave it up when the loving smile on his face didn’t waver. At times, he had the patience of the saint with her. What had she done to deserve this caring man? Yes, he wasn’t perfect, had his flaws, but she never sought perfection in her partner, having her own share of faults. He was perfect for her, or close enough to perfect as she could get.

A shy shadow of a smile stole itself onto her lips. As small as it was, he caught it nonetheless, squeezing her tightly in response. Slowly, he began to caress her, one hand roaming over her hip, waist and stomach while he held her to him with the other arm wrapped around her chest right beneath her collarbones, rubbing her upper arm. For a while, he did nothing else until she relaxed under his ministrations; only then did he continue his quest.

She had to resist the urge to close her eyes in enjoyment as he soothed her nerves, her mind, with his touch.

Steadily, he widened the range of his caresses, down to her thighs, up to the underside of her breasts, never changing the way of the touch. It remained soothing with a hint of worship and a big amount of love, no trace of arousal whatsoever –not due to his lack of sexual desire for the form she despised so much but rather out of his desire for her to come to terms with herself, with his love for her, for her and her body. He wanted to guide her slowly to acceptance, didn’t expect her to like her body again as she did before the cancer once more had started to claim it, but he hoped she wouldn’t dislike it anymore once he had finished his therapy, not that he planned to ever stop wanting to lay his hands on her, to feel her skin under his digits.

His gaze followed his moving hand in the mirror, loving the contrast of rough and soft, of her creamy white and his own darker shade of skin. She appeared so fragile in direct comparison to him, however, he knew that she wasn’t; her organism might betray her, but she was stronger than it. Tentatively, she reached behind her to lightly put her hands on the side of his thighs, pressing herself against him, leaning on him. The weight against him was too light, she didn’t occupy enough space, however his love didn’t diminish along with her physics. Quite the contrary, it seemed to grow inversely proportional. It was a shield for her, for them, though it couldn’t successfully protect her from herself. This shield would be broken – he with it – by her death. In stark contrast to her own earlier treatment, he carefully stroked her breasts with his fingertips, outlining the rounding. For a moment, she tensed in his arms, those beautiful assets an especially sore point. When he continued, though, as if nothing had happened, didn’t react to her reaction, didn’t treat this part of her any different than he had any other, she relaxed again.

All the time, she watched his face closely for any change in expression; however, except for the widening of his smile, there was nothing to find. His face reflected nothing but love, affection, and care. She had seen this expression many times before, usually when they were alone, usually directed at her – always directed at her, she corrected herself, the version he reserved for his family, for Kara, and even for Lee, was slightly different from the one he sent her – but to watch him now while he was watching her, them, had an even deeper intimacy to it.

The longer she observed him, the more she felt his love swashing over her, enveloping her. He didn’t cringe when he encountered bones where muscles, flesh, should have been, took her as she was despite having known this body with more curves instead of edges. His love was unconditional, she had always known that, but to see, to feel the proof right after she had figuratively spit at herself, when she still felt vulnerable and overly self-conscious, overwhelmed her. A silent tear escaped her eyes, unnoticed by Bill until it dripped from her jaw onto her cleavage. He let it be, kissing her shoulder instead.

An airy sigh passed her lips, an outlet for her overflowing heart that became lighter with each loving caress he bestowed upon her skin. Considering this his sign to continue to the next stage of his quest, his touch began to transform from a simple contact of skin to skin to a lover’s touch; his fingers wandered nearer and nearer to her vulva with each round they took over her hips and stomach.

He loosened his embrace around her chest a bit to be able to fondle her breasts. Her body had warmed up to his touch by now, welcomed it, craved it; even her mind began to crumble, although it still tried to resist. It refused to accept that someone could desire what it had declared detestable, but its barriers, its beliefs weakened under Bill’s caring, insisting fingers that rubbed her nipples and parted her labia, stroking her sex for a moment before softly kneading her thighs again.

Between kisses to her neck, skull, and shoulders, he built her arousal slowly, teasing her erogenous zones frequently while still not ignoring the rest of her frame. He trailed his palms over her ribs, playfully counting them, making light of how strong they stood against her skin. It pained him to see her body crumbling, but he would be damned if he let her know, if he fuelled her self-doubt even the teeniest bit. He loved her against all odds – that was all she needed to know, all she would know.

Fleetingly, he made contact with her clitoris, heating her body some more. With each time, though, his touch become more insistent, was delivered with more pressure. A long moan escaped her throat as the arousal rose in her veins, demanded to be granted entrance to her mind, wanting to carry her coherent thoughts away, to drown her doubts, to prove that she wasn’t hollow, wasn’t empty of sexuality. When he dipped a digit into her wet heat, those walls of her mind were shaken. The light tweak of a nipple helped matters along. Her mental resistance slid away, and she melted further against him.

His erection that she felt pressing against her buttocks was physical proof of the words he started to murmur into her ear in a low, rough voice. He hadn’t been very comfortable with his body’s reaction for this wasn’t about him and his pleasure but about her. However, he couldn’t help his reaction to her, to her naked form in his arms, her weight – light as it was – pressed against him, and it seemed she didn’t mind it. Inwardly relieved, he went on with more ferocity, pushing two fingers into her while caressing her with words. Words that spoke of his desire for her, that described how she felt to him, how he saw her, that tried to convey his love for her, but as he went on, they centred more and more around her body and its reaction. He talked about her sensuality, her heat, his longing to lick her, taste her, rub her breasts; all along, he stimulated her clitoris, pinched her nipples, slid his fingers in and out of her wetness.

Under the stimulation of her senses, she writhed against him, causing him to groan, to stop his line of talking to take a deep breath. To see the arousal swooped over his face added to her own. Only a short while ago, the mirror had been her enemy, had supported her in her self-disgust. It had hurt to look at it, at herself. Now, in his arms, she almost considered herself beautiful again. It was amazing how the love of a man could influence the view one had on oneself*. Occasionally, she risked a glance at herself, flushed with arousal near the edge of pleasurable bliss where he had carried her by now. She trembled inside and out under his untiring hands.

Her moans echoed from the walls of the small space, occasionally joined by his groan when her swaying hips collided with his hardened flesh. Her physical reaction wasn’t as frantic as it would have been over a year ago but not less profound. Her walls pulsed around his fingers, her hands clenched the material of his trousers while she pressed her breasts into his palm for additional stimulation. Bill rejoiced in her action and was only too happy to oblige. He considered his goal reached –at least for the time being – as she sought pleasure through the part of her body she had maltreated earlier, had clearly felt nothing but hate for. With measured force, he bit her shoulder, adding another sensation that caused the final overload of her senses. Strongly, a climatic wave washed over her, robbing her of her control over her knees, her voice, and of all coherent thought. His fingers inside her stilled, the thumb on her clitoris didn’t cease his rubbing, pressing motion, though, releasing some lighter waves to flood her frame until she sacked, spent, into his embrace. One hand cupping her sex, the other arm wrapped around her waist, he held her upright to him.

Her breathing heavy, her eyes closed in bliss, her body still trembling, he motionless except for a soothing caress of his hand on her side, they stood for some time – a display of contrast and unity at once.

When she had calmed down a bit, she opened her eyes and smiled at him as their gazes met in the mirror again. “I love you,” she breathed.

“My heart,” he answered, raw emotions visible in his eyes. Carefully, he pulled his fingers from her wetness, causing her to giggle at the soft shudder that ran through her. His heart threatened to burst at her openly good spirits, the total opposite of the mood he had found her in. He couldn’t help but smile with her. Giggling, naked Laura was something he couldn’t ever tire of, something he didn’t see often enough, something that hadn’t been around recently. It warmed him even more than the feeling of her pressing against him.

“Thank you, Bill.” She turned in his arms to face him, to look him into the eyes directly before she went on. “Thank you for not giving up on me. Thank you for showing me what I couldn’t see anymore. Thank you for loving me.” Her lips sealed his in a lovingly soft kiss.

“Any time, love, any time.”

Wrapped in each other’s arms, they continued to speak wordlessly with their lips, exchanging kisses of love, not of lust, until he broke the silence.

“What had happened, Laura?”

“I wanted to take a shower when the mirror caught my attention. I just couldn’t look away, and the longer I looked…” Her voice trailed off in a teary tone.

He hugged her even closer. “Shhhh…”

“I’m okay now, thanks to you.” She rubbed her cheek against his shoulder.

“Good, then take your shower.” Placing a kiss on her forehead, he pushed her slowly away.

“Join me.” The playful expression on her face was one he couldn’t resist.

Working together, they shed his clothes until he was as naked as she. She grinned at him and raised an eyebrow but made no further comment at the still unsated state of arousal of his body.

Having let him clean her first, she took charge of soaping him with tender hands, leaving his hard length for the last. Only when she had run her hands over every other part of him did she reach for it, squeezing it. As much as she longed to feel him inside of her, to have him fill her, she knew she didn’t have the strength for this at the moment, but not returning what he so selflessly had given her was out of question. Their relationship was about giving as well as taking, and she loved to see him come undone under her ministrations.

He didn’t try to stop her, well aware that she didn’t do this out of obligation but because she wanted to; he simply leaned back against the wall and let her have her way with him, showing her the same trust, the same submission she had shown him earlier.

She massaged his testicles, teased his length with her finger nails and her palms, slid her hands along it, squeezed it with varying pressure. Leaning forward, she caught one of his nipples with her teeth. The light pain her bite caused sent a shiver through his veins. His erection swelled even more in her hands; his breathing was laboured. Squeezing his balls hard while shoving her hand in a tight grip along his cock from head to base, she triggered his orgasm. Head leaned back, lips parted in a groan, features reigned by a relaxed tension – her eyes trailed over his face while he spilled himself into the shower, the semen dripping to the ground. She loved this expression on him – so open, so vulnerable, so loved.

Still trying to catch his breath, he gathered her into his arms. Skin against skin, they enjoyed the feeling of holding each other, letting the water rinse over them.

“We should get out,” he whispered against her cheek before kissing it tenderly. She nodded, returning his gesture, and stepped out of the shower while he turned of the water.

Already wrapped in a towel, she held out one to him, drying him before tying it around his waist.

“Rack?”

“Rack,” she agreed, casting one last look into the mirror.

“C’mon, beautiful.” He took her hand.

She couldn’t help but smile. How could she dislike herself when such love was directed at her, enveloped her, when something she had thought of as ugly caused something so wonderful? The answer was simple. She couldn’t. There would be doubts and downtimes in the future, but he would be there to chase away the demons that haunted her. “Lead the way, lover.”

= End =

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Arcadian Transformation](https://archiveofourown.org/works/572855) by [afrakaday](https://archiveofourown.org/users/afrakaday/pseuds/afrakaday)




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